


please don't say you love me (cause i might not say it back)

by tommyshepherdd (atimeforflores)



Category: Young Avengers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Juvie, M/M, Platonic Relationships, Slurs, Soul Bond, Soul-Bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 06:52:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4010068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atimeforflores/pseuds/tommyshepherdd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy really should have figured that he wouldn't get a happy ending with his soul-mate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	please don't say you love me (cause i might not say it back)

**Author's Note:**

> Minor torture warning, along with implied abuse.

His parents used to tell him that he was born with the name scribbled on his tiny wrist, writing slanted and loopy. It was almost too small to read at first, pictures of it obscured by the hospital bracelet. He looked down it day after day, year after year and tried to find meaning in it. _Billy Kaplan_ couldn’t have been that common of a name could it?

 

His parents told him again and again that soul-mates didn’t actually have to be romantic, that many people were happy with just having a platonic soulmate. They bought him book after book of it, pictures vibrant and happy that showed two boys or two girls just being friends. He didn’t put it together until many years later that the books they bought him were only same sex pairs.

 

He knew that his mother was five years old when she got her mark, Frank Shepherd appearing on her shoulder in the middle of recess at her local elementary school. He knew she had been playing tag when it hit her like lightening, causing her to fall forward and skin her knees. She used to say that she could still feel a tiny scar from it.

 

He knew that his parents met when his mother was 23, and his dad was 18. She had just graduated from her school to become a nurse, and was working a night in the ER when his dad had been wheeled in; he was the quarterback for his high school football team and was at the championship game when he was tackled. He couldn’t get up afterwards, and he thought as a high school senior that his whole life was over. When he was younger his dad would get this look in his eyes, almost like a sheen of tears before saying that Mary was the reason that he could get up at all, because he knew that someday he was going to be kneeling on the floor and asking her to marry him.

 

He knew that his uncle Brad brought over his not-soulmate-new-boyfriend Jared one year for Christmas, and that he wasn’t allowed back after that. He also knew that his dad was the one to throw the stone through the Hayes’ window, and the one to spray paint ‘Muties!’ on their garage door.

 

So he didn’t tell him about the nice boy, Josh, from down the street who liked to walk him home and invite him over for his family’s movie night. And he didn’t tell him about the kids at school, the ones who saw the mark on his arm no matter how many jackets he wore, the ones who taunted him and asked him if he was a ‘fairy’. And when Tommy’s hair started falling out in clumps, and his eyes burned so bad he couldn’t sleep at night he kept it to himself, telling his mom he wanted to try a new haircut and having her shave his whole head. None of them said anything when it grew back white, or about his eyes getting lighter and lighter.

 

He didn’t tell his parents about joining the cross country team; it looked like he didn’t need to as they both started pulling more hours. He knew no one in his house noticed when he didn’t come home for the night, Mary also taking the graveyard shift so she wouldn’t have to come home, and Frank going to bar after dropping his stuff off at home. He didn’t tell them how he memorized the forest trail, going off on the other paths but somehow always being able to loop back around and come in first. He definitely didn’t tell them about the time that Josh pushed him against a tree during practice and kissed him. He also left out the part where the leaves under his feet exploded after Josh turned around with a wink and ran away.

 

He didn’t tell his mom about the times he laid curled in bed, both his wrist and legs aching. His wrist seemed to thrum with a steady stream of angst, telling Tommy that his soulmate was a teenage boy of some type; his legs itched and twitched as they tried to run, seemingly having a mind of their own. He didn’t tell her how he ran to the next town over, and then to Georgia and then to Florida. He doesn’t tell anyone how it took him less than 15 minutes.

 

He doesn’t say anything to anyone that first year of high school, being pushed around and called names. He doesn’t say anything when Josh stops running with him, and starts hanging out with the popular crowd. He doesn’t acknowledge the fact that he was the one to blow up the football storage shed after he saw Josh kissing one of the cheerleaders.

 

He starts looking at himself, all lean muscles and angry eyes. He can run faster than anyone he had ever met, and he had plans on using it. He won every race he entered in, and a few 5ks; he carefully paced himself, making sure that no one could tell what he actually was. He decided to join the track team, joking that he needed to stay in shape during the off season. He also decided to sneak into the rival teams locker room and make all of their sneakers explode.

 

It all came to a head one morning before school when Frank was watching the news on mute, obviously suffering from a hangover. There were subtitles floating on the screen, telling about this guy who was beaten outside of a gay bar. How he was also a mutant, one of those who had the power of allure.

 

“Fucking faggot mutie deserved it.” Frank muttered into his coffee.

 

And Tommy wanted him to explode. He could feel the power roaring through his veins, anger clouding his judgement. He could imagine himself reaching out so slightly and just grabbing Frank by the arm and just letting go. He grabbed an apple off the counter instead, and gives a bull shit excuse of having to get to school early to retake a chemistry test as he slammed the door on his way out. He also knows there’ll be hell to pay for that later, but he was too angry to care.

 

He made it too school early, just coming in the front doors when the football players morning practice was ending. He cursed his decision, wishing he had opted for a run instead as they barreled past him, knocking shoulders and cursing.

 

“Watch it, faggot.” He doesn’t have to look up to know who said it, anger eating away at him. He wanted them to hurt, for them to just shut up for once.

 

He threw out a fist, catching a locker. And then, everything was blown sky high.

 

He’s left standing in a completely destroyed hallway, one arm still outstretched and touching the locker. The ceiling and whole second floor are just gone, blasted somewhere unknown. He stood there for what felt like hours, frozen in place as he heard groans from those who were injured. He didn’t even flinch when the helicopter floated above him, telling him to exit the rubble with his hands up. He just did as they said, watching in apathy as reporters swarmed the entry way, taking pictures of him as he was taken away in handcuffs.

 

Frank and Mary don’t come to his court date, nor do they hire him a lawyer. He gets some dude that stutters his name out so bad that Tommy has no clue what he was trying to say. It was a joke, the whole proceeding. Tommy knew he was dead from the very start. When they led him out again, the new sentence being a specially equipped Juvie that was part of S.H.I.E.L.D. he couldn’t say he was surprised.

 

The Juvie was cold, and Tommy kind of expected to be shoved in a leaking cell where the toilet didn’t actually work. He wishes he was after they shackled his wrists, and put a too tight collar around his throat. The first time he tries to explode it off of him he passes out from the pain and wakes up in a puddle of his own piss. His cell mate, some kid named Victor, tells him not to try it again, that the outcome will be the same each time. He tried running instead. That time he didn’t pass out, just felt the millions of lightning bolts pin pricking every nerve ending as he convulsed on the floor. Victor told him he began to foam at the mouth at one point.

 

Most of the time he felt like he couldn’t breath, slowly suffocating as they performed experiment after experiment. Their favorite ones were testing his healing time.

 

One day they cut the name of his soulmate off of his wrist, watching with grotesque curiosity as the skin knitted itself together and the name grew back even bolder. That day was the only day that Tommy screamed. They threw him back in his cell afterwards, where he curled up into a ball under his bed and refused to move, holding his wrist tightly to his chest and letting out tiny whimpers.

 

He thought he was imagining it when his mind swam to consciousness many months later, and he could feel the power coursing through him. He found that he wasn’t when he lifted a hand to his throat, the collar practically disintegrating at his touch. The shackles had already fallen off, leaving behind bruised and bloodied wrists. The name on his wrist thrummed with a mixture of excitement and panic. He grinned to himself, winking at a disoriented Victor.

 

“Whaz happen’ man?” the other teen slurred, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

 

“You might want to hold on to something.” He replied, slamming his arm against the stone wall of his prison. And once again, everything explodes.

 

He rushes through the rubble, grabbing other prisoners and depositing them over the wired fencing that had kept them in for so long. Once he finished that he rushed to the other end, searching for something…

 

“Vision, what did you do?” There! He followed the woman’s voice, answering before who ever ‘Vision’ was could.

 

“He set me free.” The adrenalin colored his voice, feeling better than he had in almost a year.

 

As the smoke settled he watched the other teens come into view, a blonde girl stepping forward. “Thomas?” She asked, pushing a stray strand of hair out of her face.

 

“Tommy.” He corrected her sharply. His parents had always referred to him as Thomas. “who the hell are you?”

 

He stalked forward, wrist thrumming. It was like he drawn, something hooked in his chest and pulling him forward. There’s another boy, staring back at him with a face that is way too familiar for his liking.

 

Like a mirror, they both raised their arms- Tommy’s left and the other boy’s right -and pressed their palms together. It was like a tidal wave came crashing down onto them, memories flashing past Tommy’s eyes as he took in the other boy’s life; Tommy knew that he was having a similar experience if the small gasp that escaped was anything to go by.

 

“Billy Kaplan.” He murmured, struggling to pull away from his soul-mate.

 

“Tommy Shepherd.” Billy said back, blinking through tears. Before he knew what was happening, Billy had thrown his body forward and yanked Tommy into an embrace. Tommy closed his eyes, burying his face into Billy’s throat and breathed.

 

…

 

Brothers, is what they come up with, twins as a matter of fact. Sort of like separated at birth, but actually having their souls transported to different bodies. Tommy accepts it, though Billy is a little more hesitant; why wouldn’t he be, he already thinks Tommy is a sociopath. Tommy thinks Tommy is a sociopath.

 

Tommy can tell he’s not what Billy had expected, too loud and too angry. He wants to be able to shut his mouth, to be able to become whatever his brother wants him to be, but everytime he forgets. Its an endless cycle of foot-in-the-mouth.

 

The Kaplans, Billy’s parents, give him a room at their place. They also invited Teddy to live with them but he’s ignoring that fact for now, pretending that he’s something different, something special.

 

He pretends he’s not jealous when he sees Teddy and Billy together, sitting on the couch watching movies, and just coexisting in the kitchen while they somehow manage to make breakfast by darting under outstretched limbs and spinning around moving bodies. He pretends it doesn’t burn at his stomach like acid when Billy leans into casual touches and giving them out himself. Billy hadn't touched him since that first night.

 

He hangs out with Kate instead, throws his time into wooing her. Her eyes are dark and show so much pity towards him, like she knows exactly what he’s doing. Maybe she does, because she’s doing the same thing. He had seen her own soul mark a few times, her hip slits letting it be seen every time she put on her suit.

 

“Who was he?” Tommy asked one day, his fingertips skimming the name on Kate’s hip as they huddled together in her pool. Her body was pressed against his; a part of his mind told him it should have felt sexual, but instead it was only...intimate.

 

“Doesn’t matter.” She answered bitterly, hand going to cover it, “He’s dead.”

 

They never spoke about _Clint Barton_ again.

 

…

 

Tommy had heard of people dying because of having their soulmate regretting them. He had just never thought he’d be one of those people.

 

He could feel himself getting weaker everyday; after a few well placed comments from the Kaplans about his health, he didn’t go back. Kate let him sleep in the same bed as her, holding him as his whole body was racked with pain each night. She looked more and more concerned, asking if they could finally call Billy. Each time he said no.

 

One day, however, he woke up to his brother’s voice, a wet washcloth being swept over his brow. He painstakingly pried open his eyes, finding Billy’s face right above his staring at him in concern.

 

“Told you not to call him.” Tommy slurred, throwing a weak hand towards Kate. She was leaning against the wall, gnawing at her lip.

 

She looked like she was crying, “You didn’t wake up for two days, Tommy. I thought you were dead.”

 

“That’s a turn off.” He quipped, desperately trying to hold back the coughs that wanted to break free. He failed.

 

He felt a raindrop fall on his face from above, startling when he realized that it was actually Billy, who had begun crying.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Billy’s lip had begun to wobble, more tears falling.

 

Tommy smiled sadly at him, “You didn’t want me.”

 

…

 

Things didn’t get better fast; if anything they got worse. Tommy didn’t know what to do with Billy suddenly hanging around 24/7, trying to show affection and that he did care. He had to run away a few times when things got too confusing.

 

Teddy also became a constant in his life, a grounding presence that wasn’t afraid to tell either brother when they were being shitty. Kate too, became something that he wasn’t expecting. He didn’t know how to handle the new emotions he felt for her, the way that her touches began to make his body react more vividly.

 

Billy didn’t know how to handle his emotionally stunted “soul-bro”, feeling like he was on a tightrope of too hot or too cold with the other boy. It wasn’t until after he teleported himself in front of a laser beam meant for Tommy that they started getting their shit together.

 

Billy could almost get Tommy to sit through a whole movie with him, an arm wrapped around the light-haired boys shoulders. Although, Tommy did make him swear on the promise of death not to tell anyone how Tommy slept in Billy’s bed with him through the whole recovery.

  
And if after Tommy told Billy what happened in the Juvie every scientist mysterious died, well, no one else needed to know that. After all, there was no one left to tell.

**Author's Note:**

> gaysupersoldiers on tumblr


End file.
